


Keep It Low

by giraffles



Series: Lights Will Guide You [6]
Category: Captain Harlock, コスモウォーリアー零 | Cosmo Warrior Zero
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Choking, Eye Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture, Violence, captain harlock week 2017, gratuitous cursing, have I tagged everything yet???, im using this to my advantage, let zero say fuck, rest in piss zone, sorta??, the real reason it's rated M, there's a happy ending i swear, zone has an unhealthy obsession with harlock in ssx okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: "I'll never get over how he camerunningwhen he heard," Even behind tinted glasses, those eye glint maliciously, "So predictable. So romantic! I'm almost a little jealous."





	

**Author's Note:**

> day 4 is "favorite rescue", and this a scene in this series I've had the idea for for a very long time. I tried my best to tag everything, but let me know if there's something I missed!

      "I'll never get over how he came _running_  when he heard," Even behind tinted glasses, those eye glint maliciously, "So predictable. So romantic! I'm almost a little jealous."    
  
Harlock spits up blood. "What the fuck are you talking about?"   
  
Zone bares his teeth like the rabid animal he is, then lashes out for the hundredth time in god-knows how many days. Harlock has lost count, because it hasn't been easy to keep track in a windowless cell or the cloistered bunker. Getting backhanded to the ground still stings, but it's not the worst thing that's happened to him, objectively speaking; everything hurts from previous thrashings, and there's something wrong with his right eye. A couple ribs might be broken, though that's something he's used to by now. Zone may herald himself a genius, but he's hardly creative in the physical torture department, and that's a cold comfort. Harlock has old scars that come from masters of the craft, mementos of younger times when he got into more trouble, or put himself in between them and someone who didn't deserve it. He doesn't regret any of it.    
  
However, the current situation still _sucks_.    
  
There's a knee in already fractured diaphragm, causing his breath to catch and stutter, and then a hand wrapped around his throat. There's not much he can do but wheeze, with his wrists bound and no way out in sight. At the moment it's just a threatening display, but he's still wonders why Zone just hasn't killed him yet. Probably to fulfill some sadistic fantasy. He's certainly the type.    
  
      "Your little army boy," Zone drawls, "The righteous prick who thought he could save you."    
  
Harlock would be tempted to correct him (the Navy and Army are two very different branches after all, you can't just interchange them like that) but there's that implication that has him reeling instead. There is only one idiot who fits that description, who would be reckless enough to come charging into such an obvious trap, and just the thought is enough to sink razors into his heart. This wasn't supposed to happen.    
  
      " _What did you--_ "    
  
      "Ah, ah," Zone's expression is positively predatory as he presses down on his windpipe, "I'm telling the story here, aren't I?"   
  
Harlock chokes, and thinks better of struggling, if only to spare aggravating existing injuries. He hadn't entertained any ideas of getting out alive and no one else should have been involved. This was wrong, wrong on so many levels, and there's nothing he can do while pinned and abused.    
  
      "It was so easy. He was so distracted, all it took was a single shot. Oh, not _lethal_ , of course. What would be the fun in that?"     
  
Then there's a knife gouging a hot trail down his side, because the bastard wants the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Well, Zone _can't have it_ , not while he's half conscious enough to resist. He's lying. He has to be lying, Zero would never make such a rookie mistake, to come alone and to fall victim to a madman with a shotgun.    
  
      "I tied him up. There's a well out back, you know. Very old. It runs deep, even though there isn't much water left. But there's _enough_."    
  
      "You f-fuckin'--"    
  
      "Not done yet," The knife twists, "That was, oh, three hours ago, give or take? He's very dead by now. Maybe I'll even put your corpse down there too."   
  
It's hard enough to breathe as it is, but this is _crushing_. The weight of this revelation is almost too much to bear, too absurd to believe-- but Zone has that covered too. From his pocket he produces a torn piece of cloth, blue and gold and stained with dark blood, the insignia of a ship's anchor and pilot's wings. It's from a worn bomber jacket. It's from Zero's jacket. He snarls something, an insult, an unintelligible sound of rage and pain, and gets a blade in his leg for all his trouble. This time he does scream, because what does he have left to lose? Zero is dead. He's dead at the hands of a monster Harlock couldn't stop. It's all his fault, because he wasn't smart enough, wasn't quick enough, because he hasn't been the same since he found Tochiro and Emeraldas murdered in a not-so-safe house. Since then he's only been one part of three, left behind to try to make some sense of the world, and he's obviously failed. And now he's dragged someone else down to hell too-- someone who never deserved to die like this, to die for _him_.    
  
      "I think, when I'm done, I'll pay everyone else a visit," Zone muses aloud, a hint of maniacal laughter slipping into his voice, "Lure them in. Break them down. That'll be _very_  entertaining. Maybe I'll let you watch."   
  
He can't even come up with an answer to that, not when Zone is choking him to near unconsciousness. Funny though, how everything has now gone numb, with dark clouds on the edge of his vision and a shadowy figure approaching the scene. It's most likely a manifestation of death, with his oxygen deprived brain doing it's best to keep up with the torture and trying to fill in sensory jargon with familiar objects. It would almost be better if it just happened. If it all just stopped. Then it would feel like he was being eviscerated with every stolen breath.     
  
A sickening crack rings out and Zone falters. He then slumps, tumbling to the side and onto the concrete floor with a garbled moan. He doesn't move.   
  
      "Fucking hell," Zero, dripping wet and one arm soaked in blood, stands not more than two feet away with a rusty pipe in hand, "What an _asshole_."    
  
Harlock is too busy trying to remember how lungs work to fully process what's happening. He's dizzy from both shock and emotional whiplash, and neither are very pleasant things to deal with. While he stumbles over words, Zero is rummaging around Zone's prone form.    
  
      "But-- t-the well--"    
  
      "I can swim, you know," Zero says with the utmost patience, "They do require that if you're a sailor."    
  
      "He-- he tied you up!"    
  
      "Those knots were the worst I've seen in my entire life."   
  
      "He said he killed you," And god, he'd believed the bastard, "I thought you were _dead_."    
  
Zero huffs. "He's bad at that too. Anyway, I'm more worried about you right now."    
  
Zero has found the magnetic key to the cuffs, and wastes no time in pulling them off of him before tossing them across the room. The sound makes him flinch. Part of him is having trouble parsing that this is happening, that it's even close to being real. He must be half a moment away from waking up in a black hole again, but there are also startlingly cold hands on his, still damp from groundwater and cast pink in diluted blood.    
  
      "You came for me," Harlock's voice cracks, and he feels like his rib cage is crumbling inward at the effort to speak, "You came here for me."    
  
Zero looks startled and concerned before his expression melts into something warmer. "Of course I did. I wasn't going to leave you behind."    
  
He's not sure what to say to that. He doesn't deserve an ounce of anything this man has given him, and yet he keeps coming back. A wiser person would have given up on the wreckage that is his being and ran far away. But Zero has always been defying the equation, hasn't he? Since Budapest, since Tabito, since rocky first missions together and rockier first touches. Ever so gently, Zero brushes back his hair, wincing in sympathy at what Harlock can only assume is the injured side of his face.    
  
      "Is it that bad?"   
  
      "Well, it's not pretty," Zero admits, which confirms his suspicions about his sight being permanently damaged, "But I think you'll live."    
  
      "I can work with that," he murmurs back, "Can we get the fuck out of here?"   
  
Zero hauls them both to their feet, and he has to lean on him more heavily than he would like. But he's a solid, grounding force that Harlock hadn't realized he was missing until it wasn't under his fingertips anymore. His heart may never be steady again, but at least there's this. It's something to help with the ache, even if it doesn't fill the void, even if this is all they ever are. Even if they have to hobble out of there while using each other as mutual crutches.     
  
      "Shit."    
  
      "Yeah."    
  
      " _Fuck_."    
  
      "Mmhm."    
  
      "Are you gonna be like this the whole way home?" Harlock grumbles, "I'm bleeding out, you could at least show a little sympathy."   
  
      "I could always carry you."    
  
      "Don't you _dare_."     
  
The snickers that bubble out from Zero are contagious as hell, and maybe there's something to be said about finding mirth even when you've been torn apart. Maybe it’s not too late to hope. 


End file.
